


When It Starts To Rain

by Arelleth



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Camping, Humor, Legolas has had better days, Other, Parody, So has Aragorn, but that doesn't stop them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25137175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arelleth/pseuds/Arelleth
Summary: Aragorn and Legolas have the worst luck while hunting. From sprained ankles to wargs to being shot at. And Legolas is fed up with it.A humorous take on Aragorn-and-Legolas-go-hunting friendship fics.
Kudos: 24





	When It Starts To Rain

Legolas had learned one thing. If ever he went into the woods with his best Mortal friend, then it was only a matter of time before something went horribly wrong.

So when it began to rain, he let out such an un-elf-like, strangled sounding noise that he startled Aragorn.

"What's wrong?"

"It is raining."

Aragorn's smile was wry. "I can see that, mellon nin."

At first, the rain was bearable. A light drizzle, that was all. But even as Legolas glanced up, unease prickled the skin beneath his tunic.

Legolas halted abruptly and turned around. "It is happening again."

Behind him, Aragorn wiped his mouth after strapping his waterskin back to his belt. Unconcerned, he gave a shrug and gave an easy smile. "Then we shall take refuge in a cave, as is our wont when it rains."

"But you know what happens when we take refuge in caves. One of us nearly drowns and the other ends up bleeding for no reason. And neither of us ever think to go back out the way we came in. Why even is that?"

Overhead the clouds seemed to roll in blacker than ever, which only added to Legolas' sense of urgency.

"We should head back," he insisted.

"We'll be fine."

Impatient, the elf gestured at the woods around him. "Do you not remember the last time this happened? These woods," he added, sweeping his arm around, "these otherwise normal woods become one large death trap the moment they sense we are here. There was an Orc in the last cave we found."

"We dispatched him easily enough," replied Aragorn, unperturbed.

"What about the time before that? You broke your arm. Then your other arm."

"I had you to help me home."

"Bandits shot at me."

"You shot back. You are good at shooting things, Legolas."

"We ended up nearly drowning in another cave while it rained."

"Accidents happen," Aragorn protested.

"You staggered out of that cave only to fall into a deer trap. Then I got defecated on by some flying beast while trying to pull you out and twisted my ankle."

"That was funny, you must admit. And it was not a beast, it was a pigeon."

A frustrated groan escaped Legolas as he tilted his head upwards at the rapidly darkening sky. "Aragorn, these are not just accidents, and if they are, then we are the two most accident prone men in the whole of Middle-Earth."

As if to punctuate his statement, the skies above them opened, and a torrent of rain blinded them as they stumbled into a cave – which was placed most conveniently in the side of a nearby hill.

The cave quickly filled with water as they tried to wait out the storm, and since neither of them thought to try and get out the way they entered – it only ever seemed to occur to the both of them afterward – Legolas found himself once again in the position of scrambling for an alternative means of egress. Aragorn only just made it out in the nick of time. It was fortunate that Legolas was so used to rescuing Aragorn, for he knew exactly where to wait and reach down an arm to save the young Ranger.

A little shaken from his near death by drowning – again – Aragorn very nearly missed the deer pit buried beneath a suspicious pile of leaves.

"Watch your step, mellon nin."

Aragorn's eyes widened as Legolas yanked him out of harm's way. "Hannon le."

An equally suspicious rustle sounded somewhere to the left of the track, where the woods lay dense and dark.

THUNK.

There was an arrow embedded in a nearby trunk, still shivering from impact.

Uneasily, Aragorn and Legolas exchanged glances.

At that moment, a party of Orcs that had no business being there came crashing through the trees, roaring and brandishing their crude swords. They did not look happy.

"Legolas?" shouted Aragorn breathlessly as they tore through the woods. "I hate to admit this, but—"

"Save your breath!"

"I think you may be right about our having bad luck!"

An Orc arrow found Legolas' shoulder, and its tip was – predictably – poisoned. Thankfully there was athelas conveniently growing everywhere, and so Aragorn managed to boil some of the fragrant leaves and draw the venom out.

They had no need of equipment. After their first few disastrous trips together Aragorn had simply strewn pots about in strategic locations. You could not travel for more than two miles between Trollshaws and Rivendell before finding a pot randomly under a bush or stuck bizarrely between the branches of a tree. It came in handy for boiling all that athelas for their various injuries. It was a wonder they hadn't decimated the plant population.

The day was far, far from over.

It was past dusk by the time the two of them staggered into the last Homely House, and by then, Elrond had every salve, splint and herbal concoction he owned arranged most artistically upon a table in his rooms of healing. With Aragorn's arm around his shoulder, Legolas heaved his friend with a grunt around a corner and found the Master of Rivendell standing peacefully in the moonlight.

Elrond moved to relieve Legolas of his wounded friend. Fellow healers stepped forward to assist him in getting Aragorn onto a pallet. "What happened this time?"

By this point, Legolas could hardly speak. His mouth was as dry as a dog bone and tasted about as good.

"Cave," he croaked.

Completely unsurprised, Elrond nodded vaguely and reached for his grey roll of bandages. "And then?"

This was far too much talking for Legolas' liking. "Orcs. Escape—"

"At least I didn't have to send the twins after you this time."

"—wargs."

"Ah."

It was going to be quite a night for the Last Homely House. Thankfully, every elf present in Rivendell knew to expect a long night of stitching, bandaging – and tranquilising, sometimes – if young Estel and his Woodelven friend ever went on a trip. The day would be spent resting in preparation, and placing wagers on what kind of misadventures they were going to have.

Legolas managed to convey through huffing and hand gestures that Aragorn had sustained yet another broken arm, several cuts, a sprained ankle, and a bruised ego. (Aragorn scowled at this last from his pallet.) Legolas himself had managed to crack a rib or two, be shot at and poisoned by at least one Orc arrow, and have his nose broken.

(The broken nose was Aragorn's accidental handiwork. His elbow had gotten Legolas in the face. Highly strung after the Orc attack, he'd insisted on carrying his bow everywhere and kept firing at every quivering bush he saw. There was a trail of dead squirrels and rabbits all the way back to Rivendell.)

At last, many bandages, tonics, yells of pain and - of course - athelas, Aragorn and Legolas were permitted to sleep. Elrond had mercifully left his patients to rest for a few hours, instead of regaling them with his usual lecture on the dangers of hunting. Specifically, Aragorn and Legolas hunting together. Legolas was sure they would not be spared for long.

Morning was just beginning to break, with the first glow of sunlight reddening the eastern sky through the trees outside. Inside, the elf lay staring at the ceiling, prodding at the tender flesh surrounding his nose and eyes. He could not see whether his friend was awake from here.

"Aragorn?" Legolas tried softly.

There was an answering rustle in the growing light. "Yes?"

"I must tell you something."

"Speak freely, mellon nin."

"This is difficult for me to say." Legolas cleared his throat. Tried to sound firm. "That is the last time we are going hunting together. Truly. The last one. No more caves. No more warg attacks. No more pits lined with spikes. No more nearly expiring from unlikely injuries. Ever. I mean it. Until the breaking of the world."

The silence between them lasted but a few moments. Aragorn's voice, when he answered, had a lazy smile in it. "You say that now..."

THE END


End file.
